


Retrieval

by Mistflyer1102



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Implications of Past Torture, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 08:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3283334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistflyer1102/pseuds/Mistflyer1102
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond refused to accept that Q was dead until he’d seen it for himself.</p><p>Oddly enough, he still wasn't prepared for what he found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Search every last corner, and interrogate survivors. Show no mercy.”

Orders delivered, Bond signaled for 004 to follow him towards the lower levels of the underground bunkers, where the latest Q-Branch intel pointed to the crude prison cells. He only briefly checked to make sure that the other volunteers—he had no authority here, not since M revoked his double-oh status after Q’s captors sent the last video—were going in the indicated directions. 004 remained at his side as they descended down a narrow staircase, the stones already worn down from countless feet. Bond could see dried splotches on the surfaces, but did not think about them; he couldn’t, not when Q could be slipping out of the reach of medical help.

_He can’t be dead, the video has to be fake. He has to be alive, he has to be._

A flicker of movement, and 004 fired before Bond could react; the shadow ducked, and the two agents flattened themselves against the walls as gunfire peppered the stairs, sending sparks up into the darkness. Bond snarled before squeezing two shots off towards the corner, only stopping when he heard a cut-off yelp. 004 dusted herself off before allowing Bond to take the lead again.

“Intelligence suggests that all members of the organization fled hours after they sent the final video, they weren’t stupid,” she said quietly, her voice echoing oddly as they followed the spiral of steps down into the earth. “They knew you would come, regardless of whether you had your licence, and that they were careless enough with the videos to know that we could glean location details. However, I’d put money down to say that they left more people behind,” she said, wrinkling her nose when they passed the dead gunman on the steps, wearing the distinctive uniform that Bond had grown to alternately fear and hate.

“Good. I need to know what they did with Q,” Bond said, checking to make sure that his Walther’s safety switch was off and that he still had the extra ammunition tucked away in a small pouch on his belt.

They entered a small cavern, and Bond could already see the dark cell doors lining the side of the cavern that he could see. A single guard, with a ring of keys attached to his belt, appeared seconds later with a large rifle in his hands. He turned, and started to raise the rifle when Bond fired a single shot into his hip, sending him backwards. “Interrogate him while I check the cells,” Bond said, calmly walking to stand near the guard and get a better view of the two rows of cells.  _They must have escaped in the rush of departure or managed to get away before the guard could challenge them_ , he realized, spotting several doors already open.

004 moved to deal with the guard as Bond checked each closed door, finding no one behind the bars. His stomach twisted in fear— _God, Q, what did you have to endure here?_ —when he spotted overturned bowls, scratch marks in the walls, but he pushed it back, allowing cold certainty to take its place as he scanned each cell, even checking the open doors in case there was the odd prisoner who did not manage to escape.

“Ask him where the prisoners went,” he said when he reached the end of the first row with no luck. “And if he doesn’t know that, then perhaps he knows where his masters went,” he added before going through to check each cell, pulling out a small torchlight to start getting a better look; these were in the shadows of the dim lamps lining the ceiling, and he had no idea if a prisoner would strike or speak to him.

 _“Stop._ ”

It was barely a whisper, but he still heard it. He looked up sharply to find 004 poised over the guard, her hand over the guard’s mouth and a knee in the bullet injury as she spoke softly, her eyes focused on the man’s face. Brow furrowed, Bond resumed the search, movingly slowly now as he studied each dark corner.

 _“Please stop._ ”

Very carefully, Bond moved back to the other side of the cavern, following the soft whisper to a cell door that was already open. Without thinking, he tensed, tightened his grip on the Walther, and shined the torch into the cell.

Q lay huddled in a corner, eyes closed as he breathed slowly as though in sleep. Uneaten food lay near the front of the cell, and Bond could see the outlines of bones through the Quartermaster’s skin. His black hair lay matted against his skull, and his glasses were missing from the cell altogether. Bond carefully stepped into the cell, only to pause when Q flinched again and weakly shook his head. “Please stop…I’m sick of this game…I know you’re not him…he’s not here,” Q whispered, body shuddering as he forced each phrase, head lolling slightly as his hazel eyes flickered open, blinking blearily at Bond. “I won’t tell…won’t talk…”

“And you won’t have to.” Bond took a few steps back, breathing slowly to control the cold rage that surged through his veins as he tapped his earpiece. “R, I’ve found him. I need medical evac immediately. Double-oh four also has a prisoner,” he said into the shared link, making brief eye contact with 004 when she looked up at him before she knocked the guard out.

 _“Very well, Commander. Please assess the Quartermaster, and if possible, bring him back to the surface. If not, a team will come down promptly._ ”

Bond watched as Q’s eyes widened and he tried to shrink against the wall as Bond stepped closer. A quick once-over told him that Q seemed intact, but he still had to be careful. “Don’t talk, Alex, I’ve got you,” he murmured, kneeling down to gently check the shivering form for any broken bones. “I’m taking you home, Alex, and then no one will bother you again,” he whispered, silently relieved to find no physical injuries that he could feel. Something seemed to flicker in Q’s eyes, but Bond ignored it in favor of gently cradling Q’s form, ignoring the soft whimpers and the pleas, certain that he would hear  _‘Please don’t do this to me again’_  until he’d hunted down and killed the bastards responsible.

_No one will harm you again._


	2. Chapter 2

“Physically, he will heal. Given a chance of course, we barely found him in time.”

Bond slowly exhaled, leaning forward to rub a hand against his temple, as there was a soft murmur around the table in the soundproof conference room. Earlier in the meeting, M had glossed over Bond’s discipline, for acting outside of M’s orders with a revoked license, and moved straight onto Q’s medical recovery. O’Reilly just provided the good news that Bond had been quietly hoping for, but his heart still twisted at the memory of Miller’s words, the psychologist expressing worry about possible interrogation techniques that twisted Q’s perception of reality.

_“He still thinks he’s a captive, that we are nothing but an elaborate ruse to get him to confess. Bond had been an integral component of the charade in the past, to convince Q that he was safe enough to lower his guards and ultimately talk. After the first time, I suspect Q kept looking for cracks in their armor, and we were all under close observation to provide the captors with the means to perform excellent mimicry. I do not know how many of these fake rescues the captors performed in the past._

_I think that for now, it’s best that Q does not see Bond.”_

Bond waited until the meeting ended, gathering the leather bag he’d packed after returning to London a few days ago. Q had fallen asleep in the medical van, blissfully sedated for the airlift back to MI6. Bond had been sent straight home, but he only stayed long enough to recuperate from several days of relentless pursuit before collecting the bag and bringing it to headquarters with the intention of making Q more comfortable. M had intercepted him, though, and brought him to the meeting that would assess Q’s condition for everyone to know.

“Miller,” he said, catching the psychologist’s attention. He passed the bag to Miller and said, “It has a few changes of clothes, his toothbrush and paste, shampoo, conditioner, his Scrabble mug, and his favorite brand of Earl Grey in there.” He patted his own pockets before locating the keychain, and carefully pulled one of them off. “This is the key to the flat, he’ll want it too when he realizes that he’s safe and wants out. He was kidnapped on the Tube, but if you feel that he’s compromised, then Eve can help with the moving out.”

“Dare I ask what you’ll be doing, Bond?” Miller asked, frowning slightly. “I understand that you have a connection and that he needs to heal, but I didn’t think you would leave so soon, not after we just got him back.”

“You literally just suggested to M that we don’t see each other for a while. So in the meantime, I’m going after the men who hurt him. M needs me here if he plans to reinstate me, so if I leave now, I can operate outside of MI6 regulations and get the damn job done without the red tape,” Bond said, aware that he had the personal funds to not only equip himself, but obtain airline tickets. Alec, meanwhile, was going to use his extensive vacation time to join Bond. “I just want to see him one more time, before I leave,” he said, watching the psychologist carefully.

Miller nodded. “Of course,” he murmured, gesturing for Bond to follow him.

He led Bond to Medical’s ICU, into a small anteroom connected to Q’s room through a one-way window. Bond silently studied Q, relieved that the quartermaster was awake. Several IV lines disappeared under the blankets, and Q seemed calmer and healthier, if still frail, in the bed then he did when Bond found him. More importantly, he was awake and listening to Eve, smiling only slightly as she gestured wildly as part of her story. Bond could hear the steady beep of the heart monitor, and rested a hand on the glass for a moment.

Q suddenly turned his head, staring straight at the window. Bond remained absolutely still, momentarily forgetting that Q would not be able to see him. Q’s chest fluttered rapidly as his hands sank into the blankets, and Bond knew immediately how this would end if O’Reilly did not step in. “Make sure he’s well taken care of, and don’t fucking lie to him,” he ordered as he pulled away from the window, turning around before he could see the way Q seemed to straighten in his bed, eyes still fixed on the window. Eve had fallen silent—Bond noted, but brushed aside—and Miller was frowning, looking between Q and Bond. “I’m going to go off-grid, so I’ll be unreachable until I return. In the meantime, I suggest you get O’Reilly for him,” he said, gesturing briefly with his chin towards Q. “Excuse me.”

Miller didn’t stop him.

Bond could handle hunting criminals down, and with another Double-O and R’s unauthorized assistance, he imagined that he’d be home soon.

_You’ll be safe, Q. I promise._   


	3. Chapter 3

“Welcome home, double-oh seven.”

Bond grimaced at the use of the codename as he dropped his still-intact equipment on the workstation, causing R to jump. He then leaned forward on the table surface, never looking away from the tech. “I take it then, that I’ve been formally reinstated in my absence?” he said, making a point of keeping his Walther in the holster he kept at his side. “Or is Alec about to receive retribution for going off his nonexistent orders?” he asked, casually setting down a five-page report of the last week.

“Actually, M wants to see you in front of a panel that will ultimately determine whether you get to keep your licence because of that stunt, but first, he expects you to return your equipment to Q, and not me,” R said, nodding to the report. “You should also turn that into Q. M’s orders.”

Bond wasn’t stupid, Eve had been keeping him updated on Q’s healing progress with a few brief sentences, and so he knew that Q was back to his old post.  _Apparently re-integration into work was one solution to his paranoia, but I’m only going to fuck it all up again,_  he thought, looking up involuntarily at the darkened office windows. “He’s not in right now, so I’ll come back tomorrow if M really wants me to do that,” he said, turning back to R.

“Actually, he’s in there right now, M let him go back to work yesterday. Erm, the darkened lights are part of him readjusting to normal light intensities. Apparently his captors kept him in the dark for so long and without his glasses that he needs slow re-introduction into regular lighting again,” R said quietly, and Bond closed his eyes to rein back the flash of cold anger that had reared its head in that second. It took him a few minutes to regain control of his emotions again, leaving a quietly nervous R when he opened his eyes again.

“I don’t think that I’ll ever find a method of death for those men that would have satisfied me,” he said quietly, tilting his head when R blanched and glanced at the report. “I had to get creative towards the end,” he said, raising a brow as he reached for the report, tucking it underneath his arm before gathering the rest of his equipment. “Now excuse me, and I want you ready to call O’Reilly in case this goes badly.”

R silently nodded, and gestured with his head towards the office door.

Bond was quietly surprised to find the door unlocked when he tested the handle. He knocked gently on the door, blinking again when he saw that the control panel blinked green— _I can just go in?_ —but braced himself before pushing it open and closing it slowly behind him, wondering if perhaps he should have brought tea as a peace offering.

It only took him a few seconds to locate Q sitting on the other end of the office couch, body curled with his head bowed and thin hands wrapped gently around the porcelain Scrabble mug. Pushing his anxiety at hurting Q further to the back of his mind, Bond squared his shoulders and gingerly approached the other man with careful, precise steps, loud enough to announce his presence. Then he changed his mind at the last minute and headed for the desk instead, setting the report down before reaching for the Walther and knife he’d ‘borrowed’ before leaving and placing those on the desk as well.

He only stopped when Q looked up at him.

Bond remained absolutely still, watching Q for any signs of anxiety. Then he slowly set his weapons down on the desk, wondering if his voice would trigger something unpleasant. He started to leave when Q abruptly said, “My name. What…what is my name?” His voice sounded rough and quiet in Bond’s ears, but Bond still heard, pausing long enough to turn halfway towards Q.

“Your name is Alexander Bryant Winfield, I call you Alex when we’re alone. Your mother’s name was Emily Anne Winfield, and you have a calico named Missy, with whom I have an uneasy peace treaty,” Bond said quietly, frowning slightly when he saw something spark in Q’s otherwise dark eyes. “Why?” he asked, turning and kneeling down on a knee to get lower to Q’s eye level.

Q stared at him. “So I’m back? I’m really back?” he whispered, voice cracking slightly.

Bond nodded, belatedly remembering that in the past, Q had lived under so many aliases and no longer used his real name. He had only whispered it to Bond in the dark of the night, on their third anniversary together, and Bond reserved the name for when it was just the two of them.  _I called him that, I called him Alex when pulling him free_ , he suddenly recalled, shifting to kneel on both knees when Q shakily put the mug down on the side table and carefully approached him. Bond remained absolutely still as Q knelt down as well, moving only when Q nearly fell over a second later, catching Q’s thin hand in his own, allowing him to run his other hand up his shirt sleeve and feeling the rough scars under warm but familiar fingers.

For a moment, neither man moved. Then Q whispered in a cracked voice, “James?”

Bond pulled him into an embrace then, holding Q tightly as the (still too) thin frame began shaking in his arms. He didn’t say anything, just rubbed Q’s back as muffled sobs wracked through the other man as he tightened his grip. “I will never leave you, Q, I promise,” Bond finally murmured into the thick dark curls that he had missed so much.

“I love you, Q.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic! 
> 
> Mistflyer :)


End file.
